


rage, rage, rage, against the dying of the light

by abbyli (orphan_account)



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Independent Kingdoms, Jaime is Aragorn (fight me), Lord Of The Rings AU, Princess Brienne, Separation and Longing, Some dead characters are alive, king jaime
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-12
Updated: 2019-06-12
Packaged: 2020-05-02 03:35:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19191109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/abbyli
Summary: The meeting at the dragon pit goes horribly wrong and the Iron Throne is destroyed. The kingdoms now independent, Tarth secedes from the Stormlands and Brienne is forced to return home to be crowned Princess of the Sapphire Isle. She returns to Westeros weeks later to search for the new king of the Rock, but Jaime has disappeared...





	rage, rage, rage, against the dying of the light

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lionheartedghost](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lionheartedghost/gifts), [Aviss](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aviss/gifts).



> So I was rewatching Lord of the Rings and this idea jumped into my head and wouldn’t go away. Follows some events from the show but is basically a big fat AU which you will see soon enough. Enjoy!

.

“Brienne. _Brienne.”_

Brienne doesn’t sleep much these days but when she does, she sleeps _hard._ So it takes at least a few good shakes from Gilly Tarly to get her back to consciousness and automatically reach for Oathkeeper, which the young wilding had smartly placed out of her reach before waking her.

“What is it? What’s happened?”

“You must come,” Gilly tells her, gently tugging on her arm. “Lady Sansa needs to speak with you immediately.”

Brienne disregards dressing completely and just pulls on the boots that Gilly offers her, throwing on a housecoat over her sleep pants and shirt. She straps Oathkeeper to her waist and follows the young wilding out of the chambers and down the hall to Sansa’s solar, which is packed full of people. Night is still heavy outside and the only light in the solar are the four candles set on Sansa’s desk. Their flames sing merrily, casting large looming pools of light that bounce and twist on the faces of those nearby, most of their glory resting on the their lady.

“Lady Sansa?”

Sansa is standing in the center of the room by her desk, her head held high. Her thin frame is wrapped in the same grey woolen gown Brienne had seen her in before retiring for bed and she half wondered if the other girl had even bothered to go to sleep.

_She looks like a queen._

Arya glares haughtily from her sister’s right side. “Something happened in the south.”

“...what exactly?” Brienne asks. She feels several pairs of eyes land on her and she flushes. “Sansa?”

Sansa’s eyes are sad but her jaw is set in determination. “The dragonpit meeting did not go to plan. Daenerys and Cersei engaged in a verbal confrontation that escalated rather quickly and...”

“Tell her, Sansa,” Arya gently taps her arm. “Tell her.”

Yohn Royce is the one to say it. “The Iron Throne is gone and so is most of Kings Landing.”

Brienne’s knees give out. Samwell Tarly grabs her arm before she falls completely to the floor and guides her to a chair. Her stomach is rolling and she’s pretty sure she’s about to vomit up what little she had for supper. “...how many?”

“How many dead? Nearly half a million.”

“Jon is alive, and so is Tyrion Lannister and most of the unsullied army as well as our forces. Jon made the northmen stay outside the city and by the time they were summoned, it was too late. They are staying there for rescue efforts but it looks pretty hopeless.”

Someone from the other side of the room asks, “What of the queen?”

“Dead.”

“Which one?” Gilly asks.

Sansa’s face hardens. “Both. Daenerys used dragonfire and Cersei used wildfire.”

Sam manages to shove a bucket at Brienne before she does actually lose her stomach contents. Sansa’s staring at her when she finally looks up a couple of minutes later, and she wipes at her mouth with the corner of her sleeve. “Lady Brienne, are you all right?”

Brienne nods but judging by the expression on the young queen’s face, she can tell she does not believe her. “Yes, my lady.”

Sansa glances away and back at her council, holding up the letter that Jon had sent her before passing it to Yohn Royce. “Jon is intending to stay in the south for the time being, and wants me to rule in his place –“

“He’ll have to give you his crown permanently,” Bran suddenly says and Brienne sees him through the throng of bodies, seated calmly in his chair by the window, furs draped over his legs. At least twelve pairs of eyes land on the young boy but he continues on, undaunted. “He is the true king.”

When Sam and Gilly had brought those records from the Citadel library forward, Jon hadn’t wanted to believe it. Brienne didn’t see the brooding king for at least a week and Brienne honestly couldn’t blame him one bit. But when he returned, new life came to the kingdom of winter. Brienne could tell he didn’t intend for word of his true parentage to go past his family and his small council but of course, things were not meant to be. Life was never like that.

“He doesn’t want it,” Bran says. “He gives only one order in that letter Lord Royce holds in his hands.” Royce glances down at the parchment in question. “The kingdoms will go independent and remain that way, only to be joined in alliances but never conquest. Sansa is now the queen in the North, and others will be crowned kings and queens of their own kingdoms in the next several days.”

“Who, though?” Arya asks. “Who are the kings and queens of Westeros?”

_Jaime._

Brienne nearly falls out of her seat when that thought enters her mind. Casterly Rock was his. The Rock Kingdom was _his._

She suddenly realizes that there had been no mention of his name. If the Kingslayer was dead though, she was pretty sure the Northmen would gloat about it so she took it in stride that maybe that was a good sign Jaime was still alive.

Hopefully.

She missed the annoying Lannister more than she thought she would. After he had sent her away with Oathkeeper she never thought she’d see him again but then she did. She kept seeing him again and again and again until...she didn’t.

Brienne hoped he was alive. She had grown rather accustomed to his face.

“The kings and queens of the kingdoms will gather together and form a great sword that will light up in the darkness.” Brienne’s heart about stopped. “The kings and queens will be spread far and wide for a long time before that happens, and some will struggle to return to their rightful homes and the duties that they were born to do. But that day will come, that day where evil will finally be defeated. It will not happen without our help though.”

“What do you see, Bran?” Sansa moves around the front of the desk to kneel before her brother. “Bran, you have the gift of foresight, tell me what you see.”

“I can only see bits and pieces of the end, only the path is clear,” Bran glances around the room, his normally clouded gaze more clear than ever. Brienne sees the boy that Sansa used to tell her about, the sweet boy that had so much hope. And it’s there, that hope, once again. “But I do see it, the sword of the kings. Not one select person will defeat the Night King and the army that he leads. Not me, not Jon. But all of us. The living need to always win in the end.”

“So that future is not lost?” Sansa glances up at the rest of them.

Bran shakes his head. “Not yet.”

Sansa sighed in relief.

Brienne waited until Sansa had dismissed everyone else to go and catch a few more hours sleep. They would depart for Kings Landing when dawn arrived to try and aid in the rescue effort but it was suspected that all was pretty much lost. It couldn’t hurt to _try_ though.

“My lady – er, your grace?”

Sansa flinched at the title. “Just my name, Lady Brienne. _Please.”_

Brienne smiled briefly, her affection for the sweet girl in front of her growing. “Please, tell me, was there word of Jaime Lannister? Did he survive the attack?”

As soon as the words left her mouth, the new queen held up a second scroll. “Tyrion Lannister thought of everything,” she unrolled the scroll, blue eyes skating across the parchment. _“’Please tell Lady Brienne of Tarth that my brother lives. Signed, Tyrion Lannister, prince of the Rock.’”_

Only two people knew the truth of the bond she and Jaime shared. Brienne sighed in relief, leaning down to rest her elbows on the side of the desk. “Thank you, Sansa.”

Sansa patted her shoulder with a soft hand. “Of course, Lady Brienne.” She smiled. “I suspect once Jaime Lannister claims his throne, you will be leaving us.”

“What?”

Sansa smiles coyly. “Well, he does intend to ask for your hand in marriage, does he not?”

The heat in Brienne’s face could have melted the frozen North.

-;

Of course, life continues to not work out the way that is required.

Another raven comes as dawn rises, this one from her father.

Brienne stares at the offending parchment for nearly ten minutes before she feels someone’s gentle hands trying to pry it from her. Glancing down she sees Arya watching her worriedly and her fingers loosen, allowing the princess to pull the parchment away.

Arya’s eyes widen in shock as she reads her father’s words, her mouth falling slack. “Y-your father is – _Tarth –“_

Snatching the paper back, Brienne scanned her gaze back over the scrawled words, hoping that they would have magically changed in the past ten seconds, but no such luck. A sigh rippled from her throat and she looked back down at Arya who had hastily rearranged the features on her face to an expression of blankness. “What are you going to do?”

“What else can I do?” Brienne sighed again, this time in defeat. “I have to go home.”

Tarth had declared themselves an independent kingdom as soon as word had reached of the destruction of the throne and the deaths of the queens. The seven kingdoms now grew to eight, and they would most likely keep growing. Selwyn Tarth had requested for Brienne to return home in time for his coronation on the turn of the new moon.

She wasn’t a lady anymore.

“Do you love your home, princess?”

Brienne’s gaze flickered down at Arya, her mouth twisting into a sneer. Oh, she would get her father for this. With a forced nod, she replies, “Yes.”

“Then you know what you need to do.”

-;

Contrary to popular belief, it’s not the Red Keep that goes up first. The dragon pit does, and when it does go up in flames, Jaime and Tyrion had been at the Red Keep. Cersei didn’t know Tyrion was there, she wouldn’t have allowed him back into the castle if she had known.

The first explosion shook the city, and those horrid screams filled the air and suddenly, Jaime didn’t feel anything. He doesn’t even hear his brother shouting at him or feel his hands pulling on his wrists to get him to move. He was rooted to the spot by the window of the solar, watching as the second blast of emerald fire sang it’s song up into the air, followed by the blaze of golden dragonfire. And it was spreading, oh, it was _spreading_ like a horrid plague, faster and faster until it engulfed everything in it’s path.

He finally lets his brother pull him out of the solar to where he finds himself slammed against the chest of Davos Seaworth. Tyrion barks an order at the older man that Jaime cannot hear. He cannot hear anything. The older knight nods and suddenly Tyrion is disappearing into the congested crowd of fleeing bodies and Jaime’s being pulled in the opposite direction.

Now he can hear. Someone’s screaming, someone’s shouting his brother’s name but who would be doing that?

It takes him a second to realize that it was him.

Jon Snow isn’t too far away from Davos and Jaime soon realizes that he is being rescued like a mewling maiden by the Northmen. He tries to run, he tries to hasten back into the city, to find Tyrion, to find Cersei, to try to _help_ because this is his fault, this was his doing but someone is holding him around the neck and yanking him back. Those arms are unfamiliar and when he looks up before the darkness takes him, he sees the scarred face of Sandor Clegane. He thrashes at the grip, he claws and shouts and tries to sink his teeth into the flesh of the Hound’s arm but the other man barely blinks, lightly tightening his grip under Jaime’s chin before the darkness surrounded him and this time, he welcomed it.

-;

When the light comes back, it’s flickering warmth of a candle that he sees first. That is the only light in wherever he lays and he briefly wonders if he’s dead.

When his eyes adjust to the darkness, he spots his brother slumped over in a chair, snoring softly. They’re in some tiny chambers, and the smell of the room is gods awful, and Jaime finds his stomach curling over. A small groan leaves his lips and Tyrion bolts awake, his face bruised and covered in suit but he’s _whole_ and _alive._ “What is it? What’s wrong – _oh.”_ Tyrion reaches over and grabs a large bowl off of the rickety table he is seated by and sticks it under Jaime’s chin where he loses what little was in his stomach.

Tyrion’s small hand is gentle as he rubs his back and Jaime continues to dry heave for several minutes before his roaring stomach finally begins to cool. “ _Wh-what happened?”_

His brother’s face twists and for one horrible moment Jaime thinks he’s about to cry but then he hastily takes a few deep breaths and slumps back into the chair he had been sleeping in. “They’re dead.” Jaime’s heart begins to race. “Both of them. Both queens are gone.” And this time his brother does cry.

He does too but only briefly, the burn of tears in his eyes blinked away as quickly as he can so they do not fall. He cannot let that happen, he does not deserve to weep or to grieve. Jaime pulls himself off of the bed as slowly as he can and reaches for his brother’s hand, gently pulling the smaller digits into his own. Tyrion’s grip is tighter than expected and they stay like that for what seems like ages, holding onto each other and grieving for what they had lost.

When Tyrion finally composes himself, Jaime slides back onto the uncomfortable bed. “Where are we?”

“Flea Bottom,” Tyrion tells him and Jaime flinches. “The only place that went untouched. You kept trying to run back into the city so, uh, the Hound knocked you out. I’m sorry for that.”

Jaime shrugs. “No matter.” He’d just be dead if the Hound hadn’t done what he did. Maybe that would be better, who knows now? “Where are the others? What of your queen’s army?”

“They mostly survived as well as King Jon’s northmen. Daenerys and Jon left their forces outside of the city and now they’re trying to aid in the rescue efforts.”

Jaime tries to stand but Tyrion tugs him back down. “We should help –“

“Not until morning light,” Tyrion says and Jaime notes the fear on his brother’s face. “Just in case –“ Then he understands. Just in case any survivors tried to take their rage out on _him._

They don’t have to wait long for news. Jon turns up within the hour, followed by a young man that looks startlingly like Robert Baratheon and Jaime feels like he’s going to be sick again. Davos follows, as well as the young man that had led Daenerys’ Unsullied. The Hound brings up the rear and there are a few other people that Jaime does not recognize, and does not care too.

“Your grace,” Tyrion greets Jon and Jon flinches.

“No, no need for that,” Jon replies. He glances at them and back at the people following him. “The Iron Throne has been destroyed.”

Jaime falls back onto the threadbare mattress. Tyrion’s gaping and Jaime can tell he had no idea about that. Jon plows on, uncaring. “There was a cache of wildfire in the throne room and when Daenerys brought Drogon across the castle, it blew. The wildfire took out Drogon and Daenerys in the process.” He sighs. “It’s over.”

“What happens now?” asks the Robert look alike. “You are king, even if there is no throne.”

Jon shakes his head. “I give one order as king. And that is for the kingdoms to be independent.” He looks at the Unsullied leader. “You and your forces are free to go where you please. Whether it be back home or to Naath, I really don’t care. Can you command the Dothraki to return to Meeran?”

The Unsullied nods. “Yes.”

“Thank you.” Jon turns back to them. “I have already written my sister. Sansa will take the Winter throne. I am not fit for it. I will return to the North to command our forces and assist but not until we are finished here.” He licks his lips. “Someone needs to send word to Stannis Baratheon, he should already be on route back to Dragonstone.”

“I’ll do that,” Davos says. The older man chuckles dryly. “He would prefer the Iron Throne but I think he’ll be okay with being King of the Stormlands.”

That’s when the words sink into Jaime’s brain. This was really happening, the kingdoms were really returning to what they were before Aegon’s Conquest.

It was over.

“Margaery Tyrell is on the run now. The Reach belongs to her now after the death of her father,” Tyrion offers. “The girl wanted to be the queen but she will have to make due with being _a_ queen.”

“Casterly Rock –“ the Robert look alike suddenly says. He points to Jaime. “The Rock Kingdom belongs to you now, Ser Jaime.”

Wait... _what?_

Jon nods. “I guess that is my last order as king. Ser Jaime, in front of these witnesses here, I officially pardon you for the killing of Aerys Targaryen. You are free to return to Casterly rock and claim your throne as the Rock King.”

Tyrion laughs and Jaime suddenly feels like he is going to throw up again. “ _Why?”_ He tries to interrupt, to protest because no, _no_ that throne does not belong to him. He hates all kings and queens, he swore he would never, _ever_ end up like that and yet –

The planning continues and Jaime doesn’t say a word. He listens closely, noting how Jon gives orders with ease and how the others listen to him and accept it. Is the Snow boy _sure_ he doesn’t want to claim his throne? It would sure make things a great deal easier for him. But of course –

They break at dawn and some go off to sleep while others return to streets to continue the rescue. Jaime follows Jon closely, and he feels the footsteps of the Hound behind him. “Why not give Casterly Rock to my brother? Or now that Cersei is dead, my niece can return and she can take the throne. I am not meant –“

“ _Because – “_ Jon turns around so abruptly that Jaime nearly collides right into him. “Myrcella has not been in Casterly Rock her whole life. Tyrion has been loyal to a Targaryen, you are the best choice, because you, in the eyes of your own home, have been loyal to your own family. And that will be all they want.”

“ _Me,_ a king?” Jaime spit in anger.

“ _Yes,”_ Jon retorted just as angrily. “I would rather Casterly Rock go under control of my sister but that is not how it’s going to be, now is it?” He yanked his arm out of Jaime’s grip, his other hand tight on the hilt of Longclaw. Jaime’s own hand reaches for Widow’s Wail and to his alarm, he finds the sword gone.

With a growl, he turns on his heel and pushes past the Hound and back up the surprisingly untouched street. Tyrion is still inside the apartment they had left and Jaime slams the door behind him. “Take the throne.” Tyrion stared at him, and Jaime notices he is holding what’s left of a sword in his hands. “Take the Rock throne,” he says again. “You’re better at this politics horseshit than I am. I will be your Kingsguard, I will be Myrcella’s guard. I will do whatever you need me to do. Just _don’t –_ don’t make me wear the crown.”

Tyrion’s scarred face is stretched in sympathy and Jaime hates him for it. “I can’t, brother.” He holds up the sword and to Jaime’s horror, he realizes it’s Widow’s Wail. “Ser Davos brought this to me a few minutes ago, it was found in the wreckage of the Red Keep.”

Jaime gazes at the sword for nearly a minute but Tyrion doesn’t flinch. He backs away from the weapon, shaking his head. “No, no, _no –“_

“Jaime –“

“ _No._ I can’t. There has to be someone else.”

Tyrion discards the sword onto the bed and reaches for him. “Jaime, listen to me, there _is_ no one else.”

“Yes there is!”

“ _No,_ no there isn’t. Do you understand? It _has_ to be you.”

Jaime shakes his head. “I’m sorry, little brother.” Tyrion gasps as he leans down and pulls him into a abrupt hug. “Tell Myrcella I’m sorry. And Brienne –“ A gasp of his own cracks his mouth and then he flees, Tyrion shouting after him.

.

.

 

**Author's Note:**

> This is an experiment, but if I get enough feedback, I would be happy to keep going. I know it's got lots of plot holes but those will be filled in along the way. Leave me your thoughts!


End file.
